


You Take the Breath Right Out of Me

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [87]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Breathplay, Episode: s06e02 Room Service, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick feels like he's a failure and Greg asks him to take a dangerous leap with him.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [87]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	You Take the Breath Right Out of Me

“I don’t know man, it’s like Warrick was carrying the entire case. Felt like I was just a lowly CSI collecting evidence, and I couldn’t even do that right! Missed that...damn spot on the panties.”

Nick shakes his head as he washes the dishes of the fifth meal Nick has prepared for his boyfriend since they officially got together. It’s a chore Greg usually does in gratitude of Nick’s cooking, but NIck felt just slightly guilty for his earlier comments, and offered to do the deed, and let Greg rest from the unpaid overtime he’s been putting in—which earned a sly “well now, maybe you should kiss  _ my  _ ass, Stokes,” from the younger man, which explains the large splash of water on his shirt that was really intended for him to take it off altogether. 

“Well...maybe you can carry  _ me,”  _ Greg shrugs with a slight pout in his lips. “And I don’t just mean in the field.” __

“Sure, I can—wait... _ what did you just ask me?”  _ Nick asks with an incredulous smile.

“Carry me...to the bedroom,” Greg walks around the kitchen island that he was leaning on and hugs Nick from behind, wafting his tongue behind Nick’s ear lobe.

“Okay,” Nick squeaks out, dropping the plate in his hand and reaching his soapy hands behind him to find Greg’s butt, gripping each cheek in a tight squeeze that makes Greg jump up and he then moves his hands down underneath his thighs, lifting him up and over and giving him a piggy-back ride to the bedroom, though his balance isn’t perfect—they knock into the walls a few times but it just makes Greg laugh and Nick’s face redder as he knows if he started laughing, he’d fall entirely. 

Once they cross the threshold, Nick spins around and drops him onto the bed, before spinning around again and jumping onto the bed, holding himself over Greg’s body.

“You left the water running,” Greg grins as he shimmies off his pants.

“Don’t care,” Nick pants. He starts unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, Greg slides his hands through the open folds and grips his back, pulling himself up to begin kissing Nick’s face, leaving his airways unblocked while he continues to regain breath—when did he get so out of shape, Nick wonders, but it’s a thought he locks away quick when his own hands free up to cup the back of Greg’s head, using just one arm to hold them both up. 

And then, Greg just outright says it.

“Choke me out, Nick Stokes.”

“What did you say?” Nick asks, thinking he first misheard him.

“That...breath play I was...talking about earlier…” Greg says between kisses, “Let’s do it...There’s one method I know that doesn’t leave marks, doesn’t involve panties or socks, either…”

“Are...are you serious, man?”

“Deadly,” Greg breathes, but his eyes widen at Nick’s face before he realizes, “Bad choice of words. But yes, do it, Nick.”

“Greg, I don’t know about this…” Nick lowers Greg’s head as he lifts his own up, allowing both men a good look at each other’s faces. 

“It’s entirely safe. You’re in complete control…” Greg takes Nick’s hands and places them on his neck, he tilts his head back and guides Nick’s thumbs an inch beneath his chin. He can feel the self-imposed pressure, and Nick can feel Greg’s swallowing gulp move his muscles. Nick’s tongue rolls out of his lips, waving out before he calls it back in and bites down on his lower lip in concern. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a power trip, but also knows and dreads could and  _ would  _ go wrong, given that he’s not as experienced as Greg in this field of sex—

But as always, Greg reassures him.

“It’s okay, I can still breathe,” Greg tells him. He slowly releases his hands, and Nick keeps his thumbs in place. He uses one hand to stroke the side of Nick’s face encouragingly. “Just press down...yes, there... _ perfect…” _

Greg adjusts himself a little, pulling NIck to sit just above his crotch. He has to stretch, but his hand slides down from Nick’s cheek around his neck down his back to grip around his own shaft that’s pressed up against Nick’s back, and the other hand to grab onto Nick’s and begins to massage them in dual circular motions with his thumbs like he’s operating a joystick on a controller. The sensation makes Nick press even harder—which is what Greg was hoping for—and Nick can feel Greg’s Adam’s Apple bob up and down in between the sides of his palms that are closed around the sides of Greg’s neck—

“So...what, uh, what now?” Nick asks nervously, unsure of what’s happening, unsure if Greg is truly gaining any pleasure because his face is contorted, his eyes seemingly looking beyond Nick. 

“Just...keep...holding…” Greg grits through clenched teeth. He grips their cocks harder, getting a surprised gasping moan out of Nick because  _ damn, G, that fuckin hurt!  _ But it also feels...good, at the same time, just as having this power, this control—he can let up his thumbs to allow Greg more breath or he can push harder and restrict him more—and who the hell would ever trust  _ anybody  _ with that, why is Greg’s trust in him absolute?

“Relax, just relax, Nicky…” Greg’s voice is strained, Nick’s heart pounds faster, because even though Greg said he could still breathe it didn’t seem that way and he thinks back to when  _ he  _ couldn’t breathe and he’s starting to panic because he already forgot to fully examine a piece of evidence that could have solved the case in half the time it took them to actually do, and what if he fucks this up too? What if he kills Greg, what if Greg becomes another picture for the scrapbook right next to the corpse of Julian Harper—

“AH!” Greg cries out, and Nick feels something hot and sticky squirt onto his back—not lotion but thicker and slimier and he watches as Greg’s face relaxes into a glowing warmth, his lips curving up in a smile. Nick releases his thumbs and pulls his head up to get a better look, because he swears he just saw Greg’s eyes rolling upwards—but Greg’s still conscious, still breathing, and still...smiling. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, not wanting to ruin the moment, but needing to know that whatever Greg’s plan was, worked.

“Mmmmm never better,” Greg moans. “What’s wrong with your little guy tonight? Seems sad.”

“He was worried about you,” Nick smiles with shining eyes. “I know what it’s like to...lose...air…”

“Oh. Oh, shit, baby, I’m so sorry,” Greg immediately lets go of Nick’s cock, slides from underneath him and sits up, cupping both his hands on either side of Nick’s face—one of his thumbs wipes away the beginnings of a tear daring to jump from Nick’s eye. “I didn’t even think—”

“It’s fine,” Nick shakes his head. “It’s-it’s stupid, man, I can’t let it ruin...this, ya seemed like you were enjoyin’ it and I feel like I ruined it—”

“Never. Never Nick Stokes, you could never ruin  _ anything,”  _ Greg reassures him with a long kiss, taking a little bit of Nick’s breath away in the process.

And then, he understands the appeal.

“I shouldn’t have pushed so hard,” Greg continues as Nick rolls off his saddling position on top of Greg. “Especially given the circumstances and—wait...what’s happening?”

Nick had grabbed Greg’s waist, placed him on top of his chest. He could feel his ribs compressing onto lungs, he pulls Greg’s wrists above his head to pull him even closer.

“Sit on me,” Nick rasps out.

_ “What!?”  _ Greg nearly screams.

“Sit on my face.”

“Nick, do you know how dangerous that is? And how-how  _ fucked  _ that is, that you want me to...to... _ bury  _ your face in my—”

“You told me, I should kiss your ass and I mean it, I will,” Nick nods. He pushes Greg’s chest down to make him lean back and Greg gets the hint, grabs Nick’s hardening cock with his hand as he hovers his butt over Nick’s face. 

“I love you,” Greg pants from the strain but his wobbling legs finally collapse onto Nick’s face, he feels something soft and wet tickle the bottom of his balls—it’s only now he realizes that his cock is completely blinding one of Nick’s eyes and moves the hand that was keeping him in his artistically crafted position to quickly move the member to lay across his thigh, but he can’t even see Nick’s eyes anyway, but still feels his mouth moving as his lips open and close, as his tongue squirms in the collapsed cave—and he notices that Nick’s ready to explode when he stops moving.

“Shit, Nick!” Greg leaps off, twisting his hand in one jerking motion with such a fearful force but it gave Nick’s penis the last thing it needed, and his returning gentle fingers are coated in his cum. 

Nick’s face, meanwhile is motionless, breathless and Greg freaks out, thinking the discharge was just some final reflective action out of a lifeless corpse. He sits off to the side of Nick on the bed, nearly falling off but he doesn’t want to risk crushing him further, gently hovering his hands over his face with red marks from Greg’s butt cheeks imprinted on his flattened face, his nose only now starting to rise back up. He presses one hand to Nick’s heart, and sighs in relief when he confirms it.

He’s still alive.

“Thank God,” Greg collapses on top of Nick’s torso, melting them into one exhausted heap of flesh breathing on the soiled bed sheets. 

Nick awakens after a few minutes with a gasp and startling Greg to the point where he falls off the bed, but Nick’s face is filled with terror for a different reason.

“Nick! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Greg immediately leaps up, grabbing Nick’s face.

“I’malrightgetyourhandsoffme,” Nick says in one breath.

“What?”

“I’m-alright,” Nick says slower, with a breath in between each word, almost a growl. “Get-your-hands-off-me.” 

Greg quickly removes his hands, which had squeezed his cheeks together, shrinking the open space in Nick’s mouth and nostrils that now stretch to their limits. 

“God, why did you make me do that?” Greg hisses, slapping Nick’s chest which nearly stops his breath again.

“I missed it,” Nick mumbles beneath his breath.

“Missed what?” Greg asks in a wild voice.

“Being...suff’cated like that…”

Greg nearly falls off the bed again, as Nick hugs his knees to his chest, curling into a ball on his bed. His eyes watering, he buries his face in his knees and begins to heave. Greg doesn’t quite know what to do, so he quickly darts out of the room and shuts the running water—which had been in the back of both of their heads, the rushing sound of urgency—and returns with some tissues and a glass of water for both of them.

“I didn’t think I would,” Nick admits after a long while in silence. When he lifts his head, his face is a wet mess, red and a long streak of booger smeared across his cheek which Greg dabs away with a tissue. “Thought I mighta became...claustrophobic after it all, cause I wasn’t before, not really, but...but it got to a point in there...where I was almost... _ comfortable.  _ And I guess part of me missed that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Greg doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but is there any right thing to say in this situation? “It’s how you’re coping.”

“Ain’t healthy.”

“Maybe not...but...our love is.” 

Nick nods, sniffling and wiping his nose before he unfurls himself and pulls Greg into his lap. He holds Greg against his body, buries his head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. He strokes the rugged skin of Greg’s scarred back, and Greg strokes the back of Nick’s head, still a tangled, oxygen starved mess with more emotional scars than he’ll ever really know about.

But it doesn’t matter, because time will let them heal. 

All they have to do is breathe. 


End file.
